When everyone kneels tomorrow you will stand in white, festively, because girls do not kneel when in white, and you'll be as quiet as a drop of water in my palm.
Only cannons will roar there on the top of the hill, one after the other.
I saw you in the garden at the battle-field, where twisted bowels stank and puddles of blood stood full of green flies_ I picked a handful of flowers for you but no one could weave as beautiful a wreath as you.
Tomorrow the praying will begin, those long prayers, and I will smile at you over your splendid wreath. I'm looking at your fingers, lightly bending tight around the jasmine bouquet, and at the red rooster with a fragrant mint leaf in his beak
And the world begins swirling. You look at me amazed, and lift all the flowers from your lap, drop everything on the floor! could have been convinced that love up there in your heart was just slumbering. ...
Everything is so sudden, the aroused blood boils too soon,
Its wounds already the festive greeting of a beauty I had not yet recognized. The devil, standing quite close, surely a trigger-happy hunter, saw my bewilderment and your shaking knees, and viciously twisted his moustache.
Seifert, Jaroslav - Casting of Bells (Spirit That Moves Us, 1984)
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Topic: Cannon Fire by Jaroslav Seifert (Read 751 times)